Prophesy
by thelordsnow
Summary: short one-off. Melisandre let's Jon in on some valuable knowledge.


_it means nothing_. The only problem Jon faced was the distinct feeling that Melisandre knew his thoughts. How was he supposed to hold solitary council when he could barely think up anything without being distracted by the pulsing red gem at her throat. As far as intents went, he didn't suspect hers were the best. The room was stuffy as usual, a fire blazing at full in the hearth and every curtain drawn over clamped windows. Jon always felt uncomfortable in here, under the priestesses alluring red gaze, never sitting and never staying longer than he had to. Luckily being lord commander meant he could usually get away with a viable excuse that normally contained more truth than lie. She looked back over at him from her place by the fir. Jon swallowed.

"I don't understand my lady" she sighed and moved around to face him across the table positioned in the middle of the room.

"Enemies Lord Snow, all around you. You must see"

"There are many who dislike the decision that made me their lord commander, aye, but I still see no reason as to why this would affect you"

"Oh, as expected'" she was being as cryptic as a puzzle and Jon was tiring of it. He needed to get out. "Sit Jon, we must talk" yet again, the prickling across the back of his neck alerted him of Melisandre's uncanny power to sense his thoughts before he even thought them. He looked around for a moment fiddling with his fingers, contemplated making an excuse and leaving, but then seated himself cautiously across from her. She sat on the chair as a queen would a throne. He couldn't deny the majesty she held; the intrigue. If anything it made Jon feel even more uncomfortable. "I have seen in my fires, ice-"

"and daggers in the dark, yes…I know" she arched an eyebrow but he did not look away. Finally she blinked and Jon rewarded himself with an internal leap of joy. Then he realised what he was thinking and stopped, a frown returning to his features.  
"my problem, as you may well have guessed, is that you cannot die Jon Snow. Your destiny speaks of things beyond the mere lord commander of an old and receding brotherhood" that caught his attention, but he knew to tread carefully. Melisandre rarely gave without wanting to receive. He shifted in his seat, scolding his curiosity for making him so jumpy and eager looking._ I look like such a green boy_ all he wanted was an escape from the torment she was presenting; a book or a good fight. _Gods it's hot in here._

"My place is here, my lady. I swore a vow"

"A vow easily broken. Or had you forgotten your red haired wildling girl?"

_Ygritte_

"How do you-"

"The fires never lie Lord Snow, they shows me many things" she stood and took a place behind the chair. Something wasn't right here.

"I was told not to…not to balk, to do what was asked of me, to be one of them. I was_ just following orders"_

"Oh I am not questioning your honour. No, I'm sure you had your reasons." She moved around the table so she stood a mere two feet away, looking down at him with a smile playing at the edge of her lips. He swallowed again. "What I am saying is a vow can easily be over written" he steadied his gaze on her face, searching it for answers. But it was like reading the cover of a thousand page book. He knew what he seeked was there, but hidden and impossible to decipher. What was she getting at? She took another step forward and began to circle behind him. His breath quickened as the heat she radiated touched his skin. His mouth was dry and thought flailing in his mind. He couldn't pin a word down. After a moment she stopped and without looking his felt her perch on the arm rest next to him. He could feel her warmth, smell her. And for the first time in along time he felt frightened. She leant her head down next to him, so Jon could feel her red hair mingling with his own. When she whispered, it sent a shiver down his spine. "I can promise you much Jon Snow, and im ny fires I see only one thing. Blood…" she paused "…and dragons" and then she was gone, and a chill swept over him. He choked as he turned toward the now open door, his cloak sweeping as he shot to his feet. She stood silhouetted in the morning light, wind whipping her gown in all directions. "Think on all I have said Lord Snow; that knowledge may be the difference between life and death-"

"and Winter is Coming" he breathed. She nodded and slipped from view. For a moment Jon watched after the spot on the stair where she had disappeared and then he shook himself free of the trance, blinking away the image of the blinding autumn sun. _I must be strong_ he thought _but in truth I am as frail as summer snow. _"oh" he sighed "you know nothing, Jon Snow"


End file.
